


Michael in the Bathroom by Himself

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Gen, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Michael Mell, Song: Michael in the Bathroom (Be More Chill)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It all goes terribly wrong when Michael is given a blade during a panic attack.
Kudos: 27





	Michael in the Bathroom by Himself

**Author's Note:**

> TW self harm! Stay safe y'all!

Knock knock knock knock

Michael had been here far too long. Far, far too long. He couldn't just leave though, could he? Leaving in such a state would hurt his reputation more than it was already hurt. 

Instead Michael decided to find a high pitched voice. "I'm on my period!"

The knocking stopped. "It's okay honey, take your time!"

No more noises. Thank god. Every knock had just furthered his anxiety. 

Michael was alone. In a bathroom. During the biggest party of the fall. His best friend hated him, everyone thought he was a loser, and he was crying because of it. Pathetic. 

Tears filled Michael's eyes. Everything was against him. He couldn't breath. Come on, Michael, calm down, he told himself. 

Michael knew how to calm down. 

He opened the cabinet doors. There they were, razor blades. Sharp enough to ease away his anxiety. 

One cut wasn't enough. Neither was two, or three, or however many had been done by the time Michael looked back down at his arm. There was so much blood. More than ever before. It had fallen down his arm to make a small pool on the white tile, which would be nice to clean up later. 

Michael pulled a handful of toilet paper off and dabbed at his arm. Shit. The cuts were deep. To the dermis at least. A few were to fat. They were still filling with blood, too. 

Why had he stopped?

Michael looked down with another intention. There wasn't any more room on his left arm. But his right… Michael had enough control with his left hand. He'd be fine. 

More cuts. Less anxiety. 

Suddenly, Michael's arm was on fire. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck was that muscle? Michael didn't get a much closer look, however, due to the blood filling it and it's neighbors. 

His vision swam. That was a lot of blood. Could Michael stop it? He grabbed some toilet paper and pressed down on the cut to no avail. 

Stitches. Michael needed stitches. 

He had kept his secret under wraps for 3 years. 3 fucking years. And now he would have to expose it. 

Michael started standing up. Such an act caused his head to start throbbing, his eyes to show spots in the air. Michael was fine, wasn't he? Yeah, he was fine. 100%. 

Michael stumbled and fell backwards. Not fine. Not fine at all was the last thought to go through his head before he blacked out. 

Jeremy POV

"Michael? Michael!"

Jeremy looked at his friend, who was surrounded by blood. Jeremy noticed Michael's sleeve was damp with something, and rolling it up confirmed Jeremy's fears. Michael had cut himself, and not for the first time, and it was all Jeremy's fault. He had left him, alone, in a party, and look what had happened. Jeremy was the worst friend ever, and all because of a computer chip. 

Speaking of the computer chip, a bit of alcohol had managed to shut him up for the time being. A good thing, too, because Jeremy might have not even seen Michael if it weren't for that. 

No. Jeremy had to act. He took out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. Hopefully they would arrive before he stopped breathing. Was Michael still breathing? 

Thank god. He was alive. 

Jeremy heard the operator on the other side of the line. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?" 

Jeremy wasn't sure he could talk. But he had to, for Michael's sake. "M-my friend… he's bleeding out… please hurry…"

"It'll be okay sweetie. Is he breathing?"

"Yeah, but it's really fast and shallow and his cuts are really deep and I think I can see muscle and I'm sorry please please hurry-"

The operator had a calming voice. Jeremy noticed that. "We're on our way."

The rest of the conversation passed in a blur. The police broke up the party at some point, and Michael was taken away in an ambulance. Jeremy went home, or at least he imagined he did because he woke up in his own bed the next day. 

Time for fucking school. Jeremy didn't plan on attending, though. Instead he ran down to the hospital with intent on visiting his friend. 

He walked up to the counter. "Can I see Michael Mell." 

The desk worker gave him a look. "What's your relationship to the patient?"

"I'm his friend. I think. I hope. I probably need to ask him that."

The woman picked up a phone and murmured illegible phrases into it, although Jeremy was certain he heard Michael's name mentioned. "Room 11. He's awake."

Jeremy all but ran into the room, and opened the door with a slam. "Michael?"

Michael looked at Jeremy. There was fire in his eyes, but he was alive, and that's all that mattered. "Oh look, the bastard himself."

"Michael I'm so sorry I wish I had never abandoned you and this is all my fault-" Tears were streaming down Jeremy's face. Michael didn't deserve this. Jeremy was a horrible person. 

"I agree completely." Jeremy's sobs escalated. "Lucky for you, I got that squip out of your head."

Wait. What? "Wh- I haven't noticed him today, you're right- how?"

Michael smiled slightly. "Mountain dew Red. I may or may not have gotten Chloe to give you some after I woke up."

"You got Chloe to- actually, I don't mind. Thank you. And thank you for being alive." 

Michael grabbed Jeremy's hand. They weren't perfect. Jeremy had to make up still. But they were going to be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry


End file.
